


And it's only a matter of whom

by risinggreatness



Series: Circle 'round the sun [110]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 00:26:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3467585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risinggreatness/pseuds/risinggreatness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Family dinners with your partners are intimidating, especially when you’re a member of the Skywalker family (not EU compliant)</p>
            </blockquote>





	And it's only a matter of whom

It’s as bad as having to dress for one of New Alderaan’s court events, except worse. Han can shrug off old senators and duck into corners; there’s no way to escape when it’s just Leia, the girls, Pres, and Pres’s new girlfriend.

It wouldn’t be so bad if he could tease Pres throughout dinner, but Leia made him promise not to make this a ‘family interrogation’, so he won’t.

Han straightens his shirt cuffs, hating how particular he’s gotten about this sort of thing.

“Looking good, dad.”

Sam leans in the doorway, smirking.

“If you’re going to mock me, don’t expect me to do this when you bring somebody home.”

“How about I just elope instead?”

“That would certainly make things easier.”

Her faces pinches, “Better fix that attitude before Lelila gets here.”

Han stops fussing about his appearance and exhales ( _that’s as good as it’s going to get_ ). “You gonna keep your old man in line?”

“That’s my job, isn’t it? Well, that and taking the piss out of Pres.”

Sam looks smug. Han frowns.

“What? Mom didn’t make me promise not embarrass the hell out of him.”

“At least one of us is allowed,” his spirits picking up.

Dinners with any of Pres’s girlfriends are not easy; there’s been an effective ban on inquisitions and baby stories since Pres was fifteen. He would never tease Bee or her girlfriends and so far, Sam has kept her boyfriends far away from the apartment.

Thankfully, the ban is only on the first family dinner with their kids’ girlfriends and boyfriends. It’s meant to embarrass both of them, but most of the appeal of teasing them drops after the first meeting.

Embarrassment is a test of strength.

Han has to wonder what he and Leia would have had to endure from Bail Organa and his own parents. He imagines it probably would have been far worse on his end in both cases.

Bee sticks her head in, “You guys ready? Pres and Lelila are going to be here any minute.”

“Hang on. Hang on. It’s not like they’re going to start dinner without us.”

Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, Bee moves on.

“She thinks you’re full of shit. You know that, right, dad?”

“She’s not the only one. Come on. Let’s go make sure your brother is miserable.”

“Right behind you.”

\----------

By all accounts, dinner goes pretty well.

Mom is her usual, gracious self, though she keeps sending sly looks down the table to him. Dad manages to keep his embarrassing anecdotes to a minimum. Bee ( _thank the gods_ ) is fascinated by all the little relationship details, inquisitive without being intrusive or mortifying. And then Sam is, well, Sam ( _Pres suspects dad put her up to the extra torture_ ).

Even on their best behavior, the Solos are a bit much to handle all at once. Lelila grins and bears it as much as possible.

Still Pres fears this may have been the kiss of death on another relationship.

As the evening draws to a close, Bee excuses herself for meditation exercises. Mom elbows dad into helping her and 3PO with clean up, in an oh-so-obvious attempt to give them some privacy.

Pres could swear Sam is sticking around just to make things awkward.

The three of them sit in stone cold silence, until Pres hisses in Sam’s ear, “Would you get lost?”

“No need to get snippy about it,” she replies fully audible.

Pres grimaces, but he and Lelila are finally alone.

“Sorry about them. They’re just a little…”

Gods, how can he possibly begin to explain his family? Maybe they should have had dinner with her family first.

“It’s fine. I get it. They’re family.”

It is possible she could be on the mark, and completely missing it?

They’re _his_ family and it’s not like they’re exactly normal, however much they like to pretend that they are. Four royal Jedi and one ex-smuggler are not average dinner company; it’s lucky they didn’t add an overprotective wookiee to that list tonight.

Scooting closer together, “And despite what you think of them, I had a good time. Your sister, Bee, is really, very sweet.”

“Yeah, when she’s not busy proving me wrong all the time.”

Lelila laughs, “Well, I’m glad I got to know her better.”

It sits uncomfortably that she doesn’t mention Sam or his parents. They don’t come as a unit, but to accept only one member of his family and not the rest is to only accept him in fractions, not as a whole.

He pulls away slightly, though not enough to be noticed.

The evening concludes with a barely lingering kiss and a promise to see each other the next morning.

Mom’s back from the kitchen when Pres turns his back to the front door.

He tries to dodge the burning question under her knitted brow, “I’m going to bed.”

“You’re not going to tell me how you thought it went?”

“Everything was fine, mom. Lelila had a good time.”

“It doesn’t sound as if you did.”

Pres silently curses her ability to read them so well. He could easily sulk alone; talking to mom about it is hard. How could she possibly get it?

“Do you ever feel like people don’t see all of you?” As soon as he asks, he realizes how stupid it is; mom would know better than anyone.

Slumping back into a seat, “Why is finding someone so hard?”

Mom takes the seat next to him, “I take it this means Lelila won’t be joining us for any more family dinners.”

Pres shakes his head.

“You know, I dated the first boy who forgot to call me ‘princess’ and married a man who insisted on only calling me it. Maybe finding someone is difficult because we don’t know what we’re looking for.”

His shoes are suddenly intensely fascinating.

“Be gentle.”

The hair is brushed out of his eyes and a light kiss is placed on his temple. Pres stews a little longer.

\----------

Katya latches onto Bee’s hand the moment she catches sight of her.

“Where did you go?”

“Sorry. I needed a second to breathe.”

“Just so long as you don’t leave me alone again tonight,” Katya teases.

The touch of nervous edge has disappeared from her voice. Whatever happened in the short time Bee was gone appears to have been the opposite of Sam’s prediction. Bee has never seen anyone so comfortable in the presence of all her family at once.

They both took it for granted that Katya was taught at the Temple, if she didn’t already know them, she at least knew _of_ them.

They weave through the crowded apartment.  They get stopped by one person or another to offer their congratulations to Bee, someone else offers them something to drink; their fingers never unlace.

Usually poised under attention, Bee flushes, “Was it like this after you were knighted?”

“Worse. My parents invited the whole colony and I didn’t have you by my side.”

Bee feels her face grow hotter.

Silverware clinks against crystal, drawing the room’s attention to mom and dad.

“Han and I would like to thank you all for coming,” mom begins the toast, “and celebrating our daughters’ knighthoods.

“But first, raise your glass to Master Rollo and Master Darrin for guiding them through their training and preparing them for the trials. If I know my daughters, they can’t have made it easy for you.”

Family and guests chuckle and toast their masters. Across the room, Sam grins at Master Darrin who beams back. Master Rollo briefly catches Bee’s eye; they lift their glasses to each other.

They quickly return their attention to mom and dad, who reach out to their daughters.

Bee has to let go of Katya’s hand to join her parents at the center of the room; she follows close behind.

“We’ll only take a moment more of your time.” Mom lifts her glass again, her voice growing uncharacteristically thick, “My beautiful girls, you earned this and I’m so proud of you.”

Her last words barely escape her throat, she chokes, “To Breha and Samara.”

Dad steps in, “To Bee and Sam!”

“Bee and Sam!” is echoed back.

Mom embraces them both tightly and excuses herself. Katya reappears at her side as dad is releasing Bee from his own bone-crushing hug, he takes notice first.

“How you doing there, Kat? Ready to ditch this party?”

Affronted, “Dad!”

But Katya laughs, “You can’t scare me away that easily.”

Bee shakes her head trying to wake up from a dream. Did she miss something? Why didn’t someone stop dad from teasing her girlfriend when she wasn’t here? And since when is Katya ‘Kat’?”

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Bee opens her mouth to ask her questions, but Sam pounces, taking him away from them. She must look mad because Katya is immediately jumps to dad’s defense.

“He was just being friendly.”

“No. He was being obnoxious. It’s what he always does the second mom turns –”

“Bee! That’s not what happened! I was miserable when you disappeared. Your dad came over to talk to me – to make sure I was okay.”

It’s a well-meaning slap to the face ( _if there is such a thing_ ). Bee winces; serves her right for abandoning her girlfriend to friends and family.

But of all possible outcomes, Bee counts herself lucky, “Remind me to thank him for that later.”

“I won’t let you forget,” she says, planting a kiss on Bee’s cheek.

Her tone and mood lightening, “So you’re ‘Kat’ now?”

She shrugs, “I guess so. No one’s ever called me ‘Kat’ before. Do you like it?”

“I do. Makes you part of the family.”

Mom insisted on giving them names in memoriam of her family; dad insisted on nicknames for the everyday. Bee’s glad he did. Wearing her grandmother’s name never felt right, never felt like her. Bee is who she is and who she wants to be.

She hopes Kat is who Katya wants to be as well.

“Then I’ll keep it.”

\----------

“Is Shmi seeing someone?”

The question jars Mara into alertness, her morning daze vanishes in an instant.

“She hasn’t said anything to me.” She sounds less defensive than she feels. ( _What has Set noticed about her daughter that she hasn’t? If she is seeing someone, why hasn’t she told Mara?_ )

“Never mind. It’s probably nothing.”

Set looks as though he’s ready to let the subject drop, but Mara cannot.

Shmi shares everything with her. They spent hours curled together on Shmi’s bed, serial holos on mute, after her first break up. No stone was left unturned nor has been since.

She prickles at the thought Shmi wouldn’t tell her if there was a new boy in her life.

“What’s probably nothing?”

“I thought it was strange she’d been hanging out with the Antilles girls so much recently. I know they’re friends and that they all just made Rogue, but she doesn’t usually spend this much time with them.”

“You’re still not telling me everything you _think_ you know.”

He’s about as bad at hiding his suspicion as he was at hiding his crush.

Set shifts back and forth on the balls of his feet. It can’t be comfortable under her watchful eye, but there is very little Mara does not know about her daughter and less that Shmi does not tell her outright.

Exhaling, “She blew off me and Zelda for Syal and Myri last night, but then I saw her –”

He cuts himself off and the conversation takes a dramatic dive, worthy of Luke’s piloting, in another direction, “What do you know about Dev Dahl?”

“Siena’s padawan?” Mara raises a brow, “I’m pretty sure Shmi doesn’t like him.”

She knows exactly what Shmi has told her about him: that he’s a pain in the ass in the training rooms and on the hangar deck. And though she may have seen him around ( _the younglings and padawans remain more Luke’s territory_ ), Mara has never met the boy who seems to plague Shmi’s every step.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought! But then I saw them together last night.”

“You’re yanking my wing.”

He vigorously shakes his head. “I couldn’t believe it either, which is why I asked you.”

Mara nearly knocks over her caf when the door opens and Shmi steps through. Shmi dances about the kitchen, ignoring its other occupants and piling cold food onto her plate.

Set and Mara watch her blissful unawareness, though she is barely fazed when she acknowledges their presence.

“Morning, mom. Hey, Set. Sorry about last night, I completely forgot I made plans with –”

“Dev Dahl,” Mara finishes her sentence.

“Crap. How did you find out?”

“I’m your mother.” Shmi gapes. “Also you just told me.”

“There goes your stealth shield,” Set interjects.

Mara can see the shield break, but Shmi doesn’t seem particularly disappointed, decidedly less oblivious to the world around her.

A faint flush and a smile quirks up. There’ll be plenty to talk about later.

\----------

His wringing hands are making _her_ nervous.

“Stop that.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”

“They’re just my parents.”

“You can say that all you want, but it’s hardly a comforting thought.”

Shmi huffs. The excuse of every boy she’s ever liked.

“Fine. You can leave then,” she says shortly, preparing to open the door.

But Dev catches her hand. “I said it wasn’t comforting. I didn’t say I wasn’t coming. You have to appreciate they’re not just your parents to everyone else.”

“So is my dad always going to be the Hero of Yavin to you?”

She knows how tired dad is of that epithet. She doesn’t ever want to make him wear it because her boyfriend is too blinded by flashy titles to see him as anything else.

“Can you blame a kid pilot for having an idol? But he stopped being the Hero of Yavin to me a long time ago.”

“What is he to you now?”

“Master Skywalker,” he replies cavalierly. “Besides, it’s not your dad who scares me.”

In the moment it takes Shmi to realize Dev means mom, he takes the initiative to open the door and let them in. Shmi smirks at him as she crosses the threshold.

Miraculously, mom and dad cleaned the apartment before their arrival, although Shmi imagines it was not without a lot of complaints from mom’s end while dad cooked dinner. ( _“I told your mom she was welcome to cook instead, but that she would probably end up poisoning our guest.”_ )

The conversation takes a while to turn into the traditional family inquisition Pres and Bee insist Han, Leia, and Sam inflict on their girlfriends. When it does come around to Dev, Shmi tenses, hoping his nerves been alleviated and that her parents like him as much as she does.

He answers their questions without hesitation.

“Both my parents are transport pilots, I always assumed I would be too, until Master Ahsoka informed us of my Force sensitivity.

“I guess a part of me didn’t want to give that up, so I started fighter pilot training too.”

“Do your parents still live on your homeworld?” mom asks.

“No. They moved with me. Coruscant has as much need for pilots as Corellia.”

Dad bursts out laughing. Mom half-heartedly smacks dad’s arm, all the while chuckling slightly herself. Shmi is mortified.

_How could they act so badly? Especially dad!_

Poor Dev is lost and confused, “Did I miss something?”

Pulling himself together, dad manages, “A pilot _and_ a Corellian to boot. I knew Skywalkers had a thing for pilots, but I thought your uncle would have spoiled Corellians for you.”

Mom’s grin grows wider. Even Shmi has to laugh at her uncle’s expense.

Catching on, Dev smirks, “Maybe just the ones who don’t know parsecs aren’t a measurement of time.”

It sends dad into another fit of hysterics.

\----------

They say goodnight to Shmi and Dev in the hangar and watch the airspeeder disappear into the stream of endless traffic.

Rather than return to the mess of dishes back the apartment, Luke and Mara climb into the open cockpit of his X-wing to bask in the only version of starlight this planet sees from the ground.

It isn’t long before they find themselves lulled into a half-sleep.

Luke hardly notices the neon lights, his focus on their matched breathing. Chests rising and falling in unison, he is reminded of their first sparring match when their breath was ragged and uncatchable. There was a shift in the galaxy that day, Luke is sure of it.

“What did you think of Dev?” he poses the question this night was about.

“It’s pretty clear you liked him.”

Mara dodges by redirecting the question back at him. He’ll indulge her for now, but he won’t let her get off that easy.

“Sure, I did. There wasn’t much not to like from what we saw.”

“You just like him because he’s in the Order _and_ a pilot.”

“Points in his favor,” Luke corrects. “Dev proved himself in other ways too. Why? Did you _not_ like him?”

Mara adjusts her position to avoid answering the question a little longer. The cockpit feels more cramped than before.

When it comes to Shmi’s boyfriends, impressing Mara was always going to be the more difficult task. Luke half-suspects nobody could ever be worthy of Shmi in Mara’s eyes.

“I liked him fine,” she responds unconvincingly.

“Mara…”

“What? I did.”

“Okay, then let me rephrase. What _didn’t_ you like about him?”

She buries her face into his chest. “I don’t like that Shmi didn’t like him.”

Not that Mara can see it, but Luke raises a curious brow. Then objection after objection spills from her tongue, her argument building up steam.

“What brought on this sudden change in opinion anyway? As far as Shmi’s told me, he used to pick on her all the time. And did you know she’s been using Syal and Myri as a cover? She even skipped out on Set and Zelda, which is how we found about the two of them in the first place. I just can’t understand it.”

Luke can’t help the third outburst of the evening anymore than he could the first two. It is enough to make Mara unburrow from his side and fix with him a hard look like the ones she used to give him.

“This isn’t funny.”

“Of course it is. Do you hear yourself? ‘Didn’t like him’,” he laughs again. “And how did you feel about me when we first met?”

“That was completely different. And my opinion of you didn’t change on a credit.”

Coaxing her to settle back down, “Maybe Shmi’s didn’t either.”

With Mara’s head returned to his chest, Luke’s memory returns to that stifling cargo hold aboard _Wild Karrde_. The shift may have happened then and there, but their feelings changed gradually and with a lot of patience.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, Skywalker – comparing the two of us to the two of them.”

“Comes with the territory of being married to you.”

Luke places a kiss on the top of Mara’s head.

He may not seem outwardly concerned, but Shmi dating terrifies the hell out of Luke. Though his head knows she’s not much younger than he was, she’s still his little girl in his heart.

Mara, who dislikes every boy Shmi dates, is more comfortable with their daughter dating than him. Maybe that’s why he’s more willing to accept her boyfriends than Mara.

The protective shield around their daughter is divided between them.

He’ll let Mara be wary of who Shmi dates, so long as she lets him be wary of Shmi dating. It may take some time, but they’ll both come around eventually.

\----------

They should have established a different set of rules before this dinner. ( _Or better yet, they shouldn’t have come at all._ )

Sam can take the teasing and the humiliation. She can take her family ganging up on her date and interrogating him.

What she can’t take is mom’s strained attempt to not to erupt.

They really should have established a ‘no politics at the table’ rule.

Dad, as usual, is completely unhelpful. She still can’t tell if it’s because he doesn’t like Jon specifically or because he’s insanely overprotective.

Neither Pres nor Bee gets this sort of treatment.

Jon and mom continue… debating.

_Can’t you get your boyfriend to cool it? That vein on mom’s forehead is about to burst._

Sam shoots Bee a look down the table. _Hey! She started it!_

_If you call defending the chancellor from his uninformed attacks ‘starting it’._

_Mom’s only putting up a fight because they’ve been friends for_ ages _. Even she knows it’s time for the chancellor to step down._

Sam has nothing against Chancellor Mothma ( _neither does Jon_ ), but Jon’s right. She’s held the seat of the New Republic for fifty years! She’s no tyrant, but mom’s always telling them about how Grandfather Organa was an advocate for new blood in the government ( _although he didn’t leave the senate until mom was eighteen_ ).

The whole thing is so stupid.

_Can’t you at least try to intervene?!_

_Why me?!_

_He’s your boyfriend!_

_She’s your mother!_

_She’s your mother too!_

Outside her head, the table is silent. Sam is suddenly conscious of the scowl on her face. Bee quickly straightens her mouth from a frown.

Dad breaks the ice, “Something you two want to share with the rest of us?”

“No,” Bee says hurriedly.

“Nope.” Sam shovels a forkful of food into her mouth.

Jon practically begs her with his eyes to help him escape another argument with her mother. The pained expression on his face is just as endearing to her as his smile, but there’s no easy way out.

They’ve been on rocky ground lately ( _they had another spat, only just last night_ ), and she _knew_ bringing him to dinner would only aggravate the situation.

But Kat was supposed to be here too; Kat was supposed to take the focus off Jon – be the perfect date that Jon is so clearly not. ( _Godsdamn her last minute mission!_ )

She could almost care about something like grav-ball if it would help them avoid another clash of politicians.

She laces fingers with him under the table.

_Just hold on until the end of dinner. We can beg off dessert._

There’s no response, of course, but Sam thinks he gets the message.

\----------

“Jon Bramsin, indeed.”

Her body is entirely in one place, her head in another.

Han groans and rolls off her, “Well, there’s a mood killer.”

Leia barely hears him.

Fuming, “It’s bad enough that he traipses around with Sam in front of the entire senate, though I suspect that’s Sam’s doing, but to speak badly about Mon! Who is he to speak like that about her? Where were the Bramsins when the Alliance needed their support? No one has sacrificed as much to the New Republic as Mon and he has the audacity to say it’s time for her to step down.”

She can feel Han itching to put a word in edgewise, but she is not ready to give it to him.

“I know you’re going to tell me I’ve said the same in the past, but it was the insinuation behind his remark: that she is unfit to lead the Republic anymore. I cannot think of anyone more worthy than Mon.”

“That’s not what I was going to say at all.”

“Oh? Are you suddenly Jon’s biggest fan?”

They are both grumpy and agitated; Leia because their daughter’s boyfriend has less aptitude for politics than Sam and Han because her frustration is preventing them from making love.

“Hardly.”

She makes no indication, but Leia is satisfied his opinion has not changed.

“But the amount Mon sacrificed is not why she’s the chancellor. And if sacrifice to _the cause_ was the one qualification for the job, you’d be chancellor for life.”

Han abruptly turns to the side, taking half the blanket with him. Leia shivers slightly and stares at his back.

He’s always been sensitive to the loss of Alderaan ( _her loss_ ), but when did Han start seeing Leia more clearly than she sees herself?

“Besides, Sam’s a grown woman. She can date whatever laserbrain she damn well pleases.”

Leia doesn’t expect the smile that turns the corners of her lips upwards. This is less about Jon’s ( _unfounded_ ) opinions of Mon than she thought.

It’s about her. It’s about her and him. It’s about a princess choosing to marry a smuggler over the objections of everyone she was expected to listen to. It’s about letting Sam pick whoever she wants over their objections.

Even if he is a politicking nerve burner – no, she will try to be kinder.

Leaning over Han, “You’re right. She is and she can.”

Some of the lines on his brow disappear. Leia reaches for his hair, all standing on end, and runs her fingers through it. More lines vanish.

He rerolls onto his back; Leia still sprawled on top of him.

“She’s more like you than you realize.”

Leia pauses mid-stroke. It’s strange even she needs the reminder that Sam is not Han’s through and through.

“I’m sorry,” she says unnecessarily. “I shouldn’t have engaged in political combat at the table.”

“No,” he teases, “you shouldn’t have. _I’ve_ never been more uncomfortable during a dinner. Just think of how it must have been for Sam – or Jon!”

“I’ll find some way to make it up to them.”

“And me? How are you going to make it up to me?”

“You?” Leia laughs, straddling her husband. “You I can make it up to now.”

**Author's Note:**

> See author bio for discussion on this 'verse.


End file.
